Fall Into Fall

I started writing this a few weeks ago, but never got around to completing it.


The last time I wrote, I was complaining about recruiters.

They’ve not stopped. Friday afternoon, after a morning with my counselor (is that what I should call her?), I swa my Tysabri infusion delayed again.

Following that infusion, I was supposed to stop by a former company for a chat. I’d not received a calendar invite, and I was going to have to miss time at work on Monday, so I didn’t dig terribly deep.

That’s rescheduled for later.


Given that I have my next infusion Tuesday, and the reschedule was for five weeks later, I guess I started writing this probably the week after Labor Day. (For anyone reading overseas, Labor Day is the US version of May Day; we don’t really like Socialism, despite what you might hear on the Democratic presidential debates. Heya, hipster Socialists, the state is cancelled.)

Otherwise, November is close at hand, so today I’m starting to gather writing prompts for next month

Yes, I’m going to do that for the tenth year, despite my psychologist’s identification of it as a compulsion.

So much in my life these days revolves around identification of the various “problems” I have. See the bit about the writing compulsion. Oh well.

We are getting very close to moving. I’m excited to be closer in to a city. It’s been too long. I should also respond to a personal email that’s been languishing.

Arts Majors

I’ve long maintained that many of the people working as corporate recruiters are Arts Majors who spell too well to work at Starbucks.

This morning’s bit was a call from a 703 number with no name displayed in the caller ID.

Are you in the market?

Not really, but I’m always willing to listen. What do you have?

You need to answer a few questions before I tell you.

((Technical questions from someone who clearly doesn’t know WTF she’s asking))

What is your current salary?

I’m not at liberty to say.

Okay, then, well, we’ll keep your resume on file.

Nono, wait a minute, you haven’t let me ask my questions.

You wouldn’t answer mine.

Please don’t keep my information on file.

My initial inclination was to release this disreputable company’s information. Then it was to call and complain about this cheery employee.

But I’m not going to do that.

I just want people to stop doing that shit.

You can leave

That’s the phrase that’s been floating through my scarred brain lately.

And I am/have.

Faceboook. Google. Twitter might be next if I can find something that I find to be an adequate replacement.

Sometimes, it’s the only thing left.

On Moving

I did go see a psychologist a few weeks ago in response to a few issues I’ve been having.

Since probably November, I’ve been having these very disturbing dreams. She thinks I have OCD, which seems to be a bit more common in people with my condition.

My, now years’, of writing every day of a month, is a compulsion.

(As an aside, I moved my 2015 and 2016 archives off the main page; I’m not sure I meant them to be there, anyway.)

Yesterday, we spent most of the day looking at places to rent in the District of Columbia.

Though I’d like to be closer to where I’m working (only one day per week, the rest remotely), and where I’m receiving my medical care, I’m scared that we won’d be able to afford it should something bad happen to me.

Paranoia
Paranoia
Everybody’s coming to get me

And a diversion to watch stuff on YouTube.

But back to writing. I don’t even know. Perhaps it’s something that keeps me humming along.

Today’s thought, after a sleep ended by a dream I’d been thoroughly roughed-up by the security staff at some conference I was attending. It wasn’t something that was terribly of interest to me, but I was there for someone else. (Perhaps this was triggered by my wife mentioning something she wanted to see that’s not of particular interest to me

And delete speculation on the cause of the dream.

On the bright side, however, the compulsions for risk have really dropped off since I spoke to her.

I need to listen to the book she recommended.

And maybe write in May instead of the month leading up to my birthday this year, separate things by six months.

My inclination towards the end of last summer’s writing period was to just not do it again.

But the urge is there, and it’s probably better for me than worrying about where I can find something dangerous to do.

When I say, “dangerous,” it’s rarely something that’s potentially fatal, but just reckless. Where can I find some raw oysters to eat? No, I don’t want to put in my seatbelt in the back of this car.

But odd times, to say the least. My scarred brain is calming down some, thankfully. We shall see. And maybe I express my compulsion in May, instead of July and August.

Get off the stage, sweetheart

Headline reference. Reactions to this week’s nonsense with Virginia.

My former Representative, and Virginia’s two senators, called for that yesterday.

.I disagree. Ralphie is a horrible governor, and politician, that’s to be sure. There’s a reason why more than once I set out specifically to vote for his opponents, and against him in Norfolk Democrat primaries. (Norfolk has been a single-party city since the Northern occupiers left in the 1870s.) I do admit that that was more about his undergraduate stint at a state-funded military academy that didn’t admit women until twenty years after the Federal service academies. I also, professionally, cannot name a single Keydet I’ve worked with whose presence didn’t actually detract from the mission at hand….

But, no, I don’t think Ralphie is racist. I think he’s a typical well-to-do Virginia Democrat. Until very recently, proper admiration of the racist party overlords was required to advance.

You can’t just erase that history.

The statues the racists in Charlottesville were concerned about — those were erected by Virginia Democrats.

I almost said I can’t believe that there’s efforts to pretend otherwise. No, it makes complete sense. Erase the past completely, and maybe people won’t point fingers. Nope. Didn’t happen. There’s no record of it.

And even if there was a record of it, all of those racist Democrats, like Fritz Hollings from South Carolina, all became Republicans, right? Erected the Confederate flag over the South Carolina statehouse, went to the Senate, and switched parties.

Oh he didn’t switch parties? My mistake.

But parts of the party’s history, and personal histories of adults involved in it don’t disappear dow the Memory Hole, by just pretending that it never happened because it makes your party look bad.

(Yes, I have a legitimate excuse for whatever I did in 1984; I was a very young child.)

Ready for Shmoo

Another year, another con.

I almost quipped something along the lines of, “will the delusion continue?”

That’s the wrong attitude to have, of course.

The talks this year appear interesting, so time to go have a nice time.

My attitude, though, has changed quite a bit, when it comes to dealing with the ever-present effort to force people to do things in your prescribed way.

I have a sense that that won’t be well-appreciated, but whatever. Maybe there’s someone there who’ll appreciate my sentiments. Maybe there’ll be someone who actually wants to hear them.

If not, a relaxing weekend of listening, writing, eating.

How About No?

Recruiter called and didn’t leave a message. Called the number back, and, naturally, it’s a huge staffing firm. The person who answered finally figured out who called me, and put him on the phone.

We have an opportunity in (somewhere I don’t live) with (some company who’ll remain nameless).

Uh, no. I’m not in that area, nor will I ever work for (nameless company).

This confused the hell out of him.

Wh-why won’t you work for them?

Because they’re dishonest, and I’m not at all interested in something if I”m not hired as a regular full-time employee.

He still didn’t understand.

Maybe I should have told him just to go fuck himself; perhaps he’d have understood that.

Happy New Year

Christmas was okay. Same for the New Year.

Not a lot going on, other than archiving a ton of email off GMail.

Yay for a day to recover, even if I only had one drink to celebrate yesterday.

11.4.18

There is a lot going on right now and I am in a funk.

So today I wanted to discuss the thought of life being fair.

There is stuff that is going on in my family and it brings up some feelings that I just don’t know how to process.  I should be upset, but I’m not.  I really just don’t care about it.

Then I think of something that happened in the past and it makes me angrier.  The most undeserving people are often the ones who receive the most consideration.  And that just pisses me off to the core.

Until tomorrow…

11.3.18

Bonding with strangers.

One of my sister in law’s coworkers came over for dinner with his wife.  I ended up making fast friends with them by sharing our mutual love of food and cooking.  We even traded Instagram account info, so we can keep up with each other’s culinary adventures.

I swear these will get longer and I will stop waiting until the last minute to write.